


Not Right

by castiel_ambrose



Series: SPN Kinkmeme Fills [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 12, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Destiel if you squint - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Imprisonment, John Comes Back, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Little bamf at the beginning, Mary doesn't, but mostly woobie by the end, like it's really gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-26 13:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14403111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castiel_ambrose/pseuds/castiel_ambrose
Summary: Filled for an SPN Kink Meme Prompt!Instead of Mary coming back, Amara's "gift" to Dean is John Winchester. John thinks that for the better part of a decade his boys have been fine and sensible, only to find that an angel stays in the bunker with them. Even worse, John finds his boys aren't the same around him, that they don't follow him around and they aren't close to him.Jealousy at his own fault has to go somewhere, and the anger has to go to Castiel. If he can get rid of him, they can be back to normal. And when the opportunity to do so falls into his lap, who is he to say no?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time ever doing one of these fills, so I hope it's well done! I got really carried away with this one.
> 
> This one is a bit iffy, mostly because John Winchester is such a dividing figure in the Supernatural world. I tried to portray him in a way that was a bit fair to his character, but as I'm not a personal John Winchester fan, it might have gotten biased. Of course, everyone is open to their own interpretation of John Winchester, so it's fine if you don't agree with mine.
> 
> That said I really enjoyed this prompt! Enough rambling; I hope you like it!

The first thing John could see was the night sky, stars splattered across it. And it was clear; the air wasn’t heavy with smoke and the heat of fire. It seemed… like Earth. And it sure as Hell didn’t feel like dead.

He tried to gain his bearings, finding he could stand and walk with relative ease. The surroundings gave him the impression of a park complete with trees and a wooden bench. His clothes weren’t tattered, and they weren’t greasy or grimy. John was alive, and at a park, alone.

“What the Hell?” He murmured, trying to find his bearings. There was crashing through the bushes to emphasize the thought, and John realized he was unarmed and in a semi-open place as he spun around to face it out of instinct. No sooner did he than a boy came stumbling out the woods, searching around. He noticed John and froze, wide-eyed. It took John a minute before he recognized him, voice cracking the silence between the two of them. “Dean?”

Dean almost seemed shell-shocked, and John took that time to examine his boy. He was definitely older; you could see it in his face, and his hair was grown out and lighter.

“Dad?” Was all Dean got out in question before John was stalking towards him, his own questions brewing to the surface. He was torn between hugging his eldest to make sure he was real and getting the answers he needed, now.

“Where is this? What year is it? Where’s your brother?” With each question, he got closer and closer to Dean until the younger boy took a reflexive step backward.

“What are you…” The dumbfounded look on Dean’s face almost made John scowl.

“Answer me. What’s happening here?”

“I… it’s a long story. It’s 2016… Sam’s fine.”

2016? He’s been dead for ten years. “Then what are you doing here?”

“Like I said… long story. I… I can tell you on the way.”

 _On the way to where?_ John felt himself asking, but he gave a cautious nod as he allowed his son to lead him to wherever they were going.

* * *

 By the time they arrived at their destination, John was equal parts confused and disbelieving, though he would never admit to the former. God? His sister? It couldn’t be true. God was a distant concept, always was. John had always been firm in the belief that there was a God only in name, as a fragment of an idea. Not some writer off the street.

Dean said Sam was at the Men of Letters Bunker with a friend, and upon further interrogation, John found that the Bunker had been left to them by their grandfather… in person, no less. John was never one for the Men of Letters, so pulling up to what looked like an old factory on a hill and claiming it was a secret headquarters of information didn’t help much.

“So you boys live here?” John didn’t let up on his examination and interrogation.

“Yeah. It’s pretty cool.” Dean looked over and gave a slightly tight-lipped smile as they entered the Bunker. Immediately the whole force of it hit him as resolutely and suddenly as the steel door clanged shut behind him. John only followed Dean down the stairs, as much as he hated how he felt. He kept busy raking over the place with a careful eye to see how it was put together.

“Sam? Cas? It’s me!” Dean called out, and no sooner did he than a tall man with hair near his shoulders came out of another room. He blinked as he noticed Dean like he couldn’t believe that the Winchester was standing in front of him. It hit John that that was Sam.

“Dean?” Sam looked almost disbelieving until the two of them were wrapped up quickly in a hug. John was almost surprised, but once Sam noticed him there was a certain stiffening, even if it was minutely, as he pulled away from the hug. He was confused, and if John didn’t know any better he would say his youngest was scared. “Is that…?” He trailed off and looked at Dean for an answer. Before he could speak, John spoke up.

“Yeah, it’s me, Sam.” John grinned, taking him in. “You grew your hair out.”

Sam looked damn near terrified, and John figured it was because he had just come back from the dead. He went to step forward, reunite with his sons properly, before he saw another man stepping forward from behind them, eye flitting to Dean. Dean’s gaze immediately turned to the new guy, and for the first Dean seemed to relax.

“Cas?”

“Dean.” ‘Cas’ blinked, almost stopping before he strode forward, closing the distance between them quickly and wrapping his arms around Dean in a hug. Dean hugged back, with just as much familiarity as he had Sam, and John felt a tick.

“We thought you had died.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint.” Dean gave a small smirk as he pulled away, attention still on whoever Cas was. He almost looked like a businessman; not a Hunter, certainly. John’s eyes never left the intruder as he cleared his throat to bring attention back to himself.

“Who’s he?” John looked between the three of them for an answer. The aforementioned three looked between themselves as well. “Another Hunter?”

“My name’s Castiel.” Castiel’s voice did not match his appearance.

“He’s an angel,” Sam spoke up, and John’s grin faltered.

“A what?”

“An angel.” Dean picked up, “with a capital A. Y’know, wings, haloes-”

“What’re you boys doing with an angel?” John’s abrupt tone must’ve shocked them because it quickly dissolved into silence. Castiel obviously took the most offense; he started to examine John more closely.

“I work and live with them. Who are you?”

“Cas.” Sam stopped anything that might’ve been said. “He’s… our dad.”

“John Winchester?” Castiel’s eyebrows rose, and he looked surprised, even if it didn’t do much to back him off.

“It’s… a long story. We all probably have to talk.” Dean conceded, giving Castiel a look John couldn’t even decipher. One thing John did know, however, was that he didn’t like Castiel.


	2. Chapter 2

No one was able to sleep that night so the three decided to let John know everything from what had happened once John died to Dean's hell --which John nearly flipped over-- the Apocalypse and whole years of stuff that seemed to snowball into what had led Dean and John to be in that garden.

It was obvious they weren't big fans of some of what had happened and John had to make his boys look him in the eyes and delve into the details more than a few times. But he knew the details well enough and gathered enough information to formulate a few thoughts about what was going on.

One; Sam and Dean were out of line. They were too familiar with plenty of creatures for John's taste, and obviously weren't surviving.

Two; Castiel was the cause of this. The boys both claimed he had saved them from hell and fought by their side in the Apocalypse, but while they were quick to defend the angel he said nearly nothing to defend himself; he corrected, sure, but he didn't explain himself either. Castiel sat there and John could tell he was watching him, examining him, despite everything else happening. he almost seemed to glare at John the whole time, as if he wasn’t the one that belonged.

It wasn't limited to that night either. John, of course, stayed in the bunker with them both, catching up and training, but he made sure to take advantage of the library since it was always better to be aware in case of anything happening. The world had changed in the last decade, almost too much.

But even there, he couldn't escape it walking around, flipping through books of various sizes.

It sat with his boys at the table, even if there was no other food to eat.

It talked to them with familiarity, brushing up against them. John even saw it squished on the couch, once, in between his sons as some black and white cowboy movie played on the TV and asking endless questions about it.

And it never looked at John. And if it did, it was almost a glare, or a warning if he dared to come close.

It hated him. And he hated it.

The boys weren't oblivious. The tension on all sides was enough to suffocate the whole area. It grew and grew, Sam and Dean growing uncomfortable and John and Castiel alternating between stone cold silence and fiery anger at each other's very presence.

It had been a week since their last meeting and John was surprised he had made it that long before he finally had the angel alone in a hallway.

“The Hell are you doing here?” He wasn't about to beat around the bush, especially with the creature. Castiel turned and gave him a look that was almost Dean-like in attitude and anger.

“I believe we went over this when you came here.”

“Don’t give me that shit. What do you want with Sam and Dean?”

“To help them, to put it simply. And they help me. They’re my friends.” Castiel's tone was just as clipped and to the point, with a slight inflection that made John's blood boil.

“They don’t need you. They have me, now. They don’t need to be talking to some monster.” John got closer to his face, looking to intimidate him or make him step back. But the angel didn't move; he met John's gaze and held it.

“You should be careful. I have heard what you’ve done to them, know what they carry because of you. I see it in their souls. I am the least monstrous being between us.”

That was enough to make John stop, even for a second. Castiel kept going on.

“The only reason I do not smite you is that your sons still seem to want you around, for reasons I don't understand. But I will tell you what I told Dean when I met him;  you should show me some respect. I'm still a warrior of God.” There was a spark in his blue eyes as he turned tail and left down the hallway with long strides, leaving John with nothing but boiling anger and offense.

He mulled over the angel’s words all day, picking them apart and getting angrier and angrier about it. Castiel had no right to think he could barge on in and act like a protector.

_I am the least monstrous being between us._

That was what had set John off the most. What had they been saying? John knew they had grown up tough, but he had always taken care of them and he knew he raised them right, better than they were now. Sam and Dean knew better than to carry on like this.

It wasn't until much later that night that he began to realize that Castiel needed to go. If he did, his sons would stop working from under his influence and come back to their family.

He only needed a way to do it, for good. But how escaped him until Sam, of all people, gave him the opportunity and the means.

The Men of Letters had a big basement/storage facility at the lowest point in the bunker. In an effort to slightly diffuse the tension and keep everyone busy Sam tried to take John on a tour through the bunker and show him what it held.

Aside from random artifacts that the previous owners had left, there was another section in the corner, with the variety of what looked like boxes and chains.

“What’re these?” John was instantly drawn to them, and Sam went along with it, with a touch of reluctance.

“Some sorts of cages. I think the Men of Letters used them, but we never have, so I don't know if some of them work or not.”

John scanned each one, each device or contraption meant to keep some bastard locked up tight. Some he can make out, like ones made for werewolf and vampires, but his foot kicked a solid metal one just lying on the floor. The little pain he felt, however, ebbed away as he studied it. It was closed, probably about six foot and a few inches, with what looked like ruins on the hinge cover. John found it was unlocked and cautiously opened the inside. “And this one?”

Sam cleared his throat a bit before responding. “That's an angel holding container. It stops them from leaving their vessel, and keeps them locked up without being able to hurt anyone.”

“Angel holding” immediately perked John's ears in interest, though he hid it under a grim, if not curious, look at the container. The inside had to be an inch and a half thick, with more runes on the inside. Thick metal cuffs were attached to either side of the container, for hand and feet to be restricted. A metal collar attached to the bottom of the container kept the head in place. A final piece with a face mask, metal as the rest but without the decoration. It looked like a welder's mask, but with no holes for eyes and a metal tube where the mouth would go. It was meant to go down the angel’s throat, thereby gagging them and stopping them from reciting any forms of words.  it was meant to keep angels immobile and helpless.

Already ideas were forming and John's head, one after the other, but it was kept quiet. “And you boys just leave this lying around with…”  John trailed off as he looked up and cocked an eyebrow at Sam in question.

“We haven't found time to do anything about it,” Sam admitted. “Dean and I want to dismantle it and use the metal for something else. We know Cas… doesn't like it very much”

It probably scared the hell out of him. John wasn't scared, however, and he knew what to do now.

He would almost say it was divine intervention that gave him this as a means to an end.


	3. Chapter 3

“Did Cas tell you he was leaving?” Was Dean’s way of greeting Sam a few days later.

“I… wasn’t aware he had left,” Sam confessed, looking up from his laptop to watch his older brother track across the room.

“His room is empty. What happened?” It wasn’t like Cas to just up and disappear; well, it was like him to disappear. But he never did it without letting Dean and Sam know where he was going. They had worked past that; Dean thought they did, anyway. That was part of darker days, days that were past, and should stay in the past. Castiel wouldn’t do that again.

Sam looked just as lost as Dean felt, and Dean went for his phone to call Cas when John came out from another room, with a glint in his eyes and one of Dean’s old phones in his hands. They had tried to get him up to date on technology, but sadly it wasn’t going too well. John had only barely grasped the concept of “smartphones” a few days ago, and he didn’t like them at all.

“I found a case.” Just a few words brought Sam and Dean back to unpleasant memories, and times that at times were dark as well. John either was uncaring or didn’t notice as he put the phone down for them to see.

“Dad-”

“Have you seen Cas?” Both Sam and Dean spoke up at the same time, obviously marginally throwing John mentally off his rant he felt coming up as he gave them both an irked look of surprise.

“The angel? Haven’t seen him since last night.”

“What was he doing?” Dean pressed a little more. John furrowed his brow impatiently.

“I don’t know, he was in the library looking through some books. Now are we doing the case or are we standing around talking? I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

The tone of his voice became a bit deeper, and they both knew that meant he was putting on his Military Voice, which meant business and no room for argument. This was familiar, much too familiar. Dean knew he shouldn’t take it, that he was a grown man, dammit, but he couldn’t say or do much against it. It made him feel almost sick. Looking at Sam, he could tell his brother felt the same about everything. They needed to talk.

* * *

John had at first figured that this was a good idea, that they would be able to get back to basics and Hunt like it used to be with his boys. Bonds and roles could be established again, and he could finally relax with Castiel being taken care of, far away from where they were. It was also a bit of a relief for John to put this back into his life, after a decade of no action. It was almost like riding a bicycle or should’ve seemed like that where you could pick up right where you left off.

Truth was, Hunting wasn’t the same as it was before. It was a relatively simple ghost Hunt and should’ve been quick. But the boys weren’t exactly into it. There was a difference from before, and now. They weren’t so quick to follow orders, though they eventually did. They were more independent, putting forth their own ideas instead of going along with John’s.

And John could’ve busted Dean’s phone with how much he took to staring at it or typing on it because he knew who he was looking to talk to.

So when the car ride home was full of tension and silence, John in the driver’s seat of his Impala, it was no wonder. Dean barely spoke and Sam followed suit, not even bothering to ask to change the music. John didn’t know which one was getting his cues from the other, but it was obviously working.

John expected it to be the same when he got back to the Bunker until Dean swallowed and audibly placed his bag -- more like gently dropped -- on the table in the main room to get attention. Sam had slipped away somewhere.

“Where’s Cas?” His voice was serious, if not cautious, and he steadily kept a look in John’s eyes.

“I said before I didn’t know.”

“I think you do.” Dean continued. “Cas wouldn’t leave, not like this. And you’ve been acting weird. What’d you do with him?”

“I didn’t do anything, Dean. Would it matter if I did?” He almost dared the boy to step up to him, and Dean’s hands clenched at his sides.

“It might. You were the only person to have a problem with him. And I damn well saw the look in your eyes everytime that I mentioned Cas when we were hunting.” Dean stepped up; just a few feet, but enough to mean something. John wasn’t about to be intimidated, not when he knew Dean didn’t mean half the toughness he always seemed to promise. Before he could express that, Sam’s feet came hurrying up from the basement, with a look of urgency in his eyes.

“The box is gone. The angel box.” Those seven words changed everything; Sam’s slightly wide-eyed, somewhat panicked look rubbed off on Dean, though now his jaw was set and he glared as he stepped forward to John until he was right in front of him, eye to eye. Sam tried to grab his arm but Dean shook him off.

“Where’s Cas?” His voice was raised, and the fire in his eyes was met by John’s own.

“You think I’ll tell you? What’re you gonna do, Dean, hit me? Torture me? I taught you everything you know. You can’t do nothing.”

“Yeah, you taught me everything I know. But I’ve learned some more since you’ve been dead. And I’m not scared.”

“Dean!” Sam yanked him back, resolutely not looking at John even though he had the same feelings Dean did. “Now isn’t the time. We have to find Cas. And we don’t need him. The spell-”

“You’re really gonna try and find him? You ever think it’s better this way? You don’t need him. Forget about him.” John knew what was happening, and if they were going to find the angel he had to stop it.

“Cas is family. And we look after family.” Dean got out before he disappeared with Sam to get whatever they needed for a spell.

John was their family, damn it! Some creature that had no place alive and with them wasn’t family. It was barely three minutes before they were grabbing their bags again, a location apparently in their minds.

“You leave after that angel, I ain’t staying.”

It was Sam who spoke up this time, surprising John. “Go ahead.” With that, they left for the garage, and John heard the Impala start up again as they peeled out and down the street. And John was left alone, for the first time. It didn’t seem right, but nothing really did anymore.

* * *

 Cas wasn’t more than a mile away, but he was in the numerous woods surrounding the Bunker and Lebanon; finding him would’ve taken a lot longer if they didn’t have anywhere to start. All the spell did was give them a general direction; it didn’t show them a pinpoint. It was eight in the morning when they got there, but it wasn’t until eleven that Sam noticed where the leaves on the ground looked a little off, and the dirt was a little freshly tilled. Within seconds they were furiously digging into the ground, hitting the box after a good while. From then it was a matter of pulling the box above ground and prying it open with the tools they brought. The brothers both braced themselves from the sight they would see before quickly shoving the lid off.

Cas was nearly limp. His chest was rising and falling shallowly, and it was the only way they could tell he was alive. Dean took off the mask, gently but with urgency, just to let Castiel know they were there. The first sight to meet Dean was the tears pooling in Castiel’s eyes as they flitted over to him, unable to move his head from its stationary position.

“Cas, hey, buddy, are you alright?” Dean softly asked as he broke open the collar and Sam made quick work of the other shackles. The only answer Dean got was more tears; there was no motion in any way, and when the brothers went to grab Cas by the arms to pull him out, he almost flinched and shied away from the touch. Three days he had been in there, alone and powerless in the dark. Dean felt like he was punched in the gut, and his brother almost mirrored Cas’ expression.

“We’re here, Cas. Don’t worry.” Again, gentler, Dean grabbed Cas by the shoulder and arm and sat him up. Dean let his hand linger on Castiel’s arm to judge how he felt now, and the angel hesitantly, but firmly turned and put an arm around Dean, who reflexively hugged back. He pulled Cas close to him and the other responded by burrowing his face into the junction where Dean’s shoulder and neck met.

Dean felt helpless as he looked at his younger brother, who in turn joined them until they resembled a little huddle in their makeshift group hug, comforting not only Castiel but themselves for everything that had happened. This wasn’t over, not by any means. They had a way to go, and they had problems back at the Bunker, as well as putting Cas back together somehow. But in their little hug in the forest, acting like lifelines and in the still of the afternoon, there was a bit of peace that they could keep to themselves, however small. It wasn’t enough for the future, but it was enough for now.


	4. Chapter 4

The Bunker was quiet once they got back to it. Sam and Dean weren’t bothering to bring the box back with them at that moment; Cas didn’t need it near him and Baby couldn’t fit it, anyways. Instead, they reburied it lightly; if need be, they would come back for it to get rid of it once and for all. The metal could be used as bullets or something similar. But right now it had no use.

The drive back was a bit somber and kept the same quiet tone as it had in the forest. Cas either looked out the window or at his feet as they went back and Dean felt an ache every time he looked in the backseat mirror and watched him.

True to his word, John wasn’t there when they got back. It didn’t look like he had taken much of anything, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t another cause for worry. Another one to add to their list.

“Do you want to go up to your room?” Dean turned to ask Cas. The angel was a little shaky on his feet, but he seemed to knuckle through it.

“I can do it.” His voice was hoarse, more than likely from the tube that had been shoved inside of his mouth for three days. It surprised Dean, and Sam as well, but it looked a bit hopeful for the future if he was talking.

“Cas, you need help.” Sam protested, but Cas shook his head weakly, albeit resolutely.

“I’m sure I can make it to my room on my own. But… thank you.” Castiel tried to wrest himself from Dean’s light grip on him and only slightly succeeded as he made it to the foot of the stairs before being forced to collapse and sit on them. He drew his lips into a tight, thin line and refused to look at either of them. The situation might’ve been comical any other time if it had been different reasons or even a different person.

There was another bout of silence before Cas spoke up quietly. “Where’s your father?”

“He left.” Sam’s voice was the same volume. At Castiel’s somewhat surprised look, he clarified further. “We told him to leave. Once we found out what he did.”

Castiel looked at the two of them as if they had multiple heads. “But… he’s your father.” He spoke slowly as if telling them something they didn’t know.

“Yeah, well, we didn’t want him around.” Dean didn’t look at Cas either, arms crossed and head looking at the floor to the side. He hoped that through it they would be able to move on if his behavior was any indication that he wanted to. “Now stop trying to change the subject.” Finally, he turned his attention back towards Cas, and found him looking at the both of them with a trademarked worried expression; Dean had no idea why. “You’re hurt, and we’re helping you.”

“I’m…” Cas went to protest, but whatever he must’ve seen in their eyes made him stop. His shoulders slumped slightly and Dean saw him sigh, even if it wasn’t audible. “I don’t want to go to my room.”

“The table?”

A single nod was all they got before they all settled at the table, more or less collapsing into their respecting chairs. Castiel gave a low groan and all but slumped into the chair once he sat down.

“Stiff?”

“You could probably say that,” Castiel muttered, but spoke up when Dean opened his mouth; there was definitely an edge to it this time. “No, I don’t need anything, Dean.”

The older Winchester fixed him with an appraising look, daring him to say anything else in rejection. Sam cleared his throat and spoken up quietly.

“Beer?”

This time Dean gave him a look. “You’re actually offering beer? It’s not April first, right?”

Sam rolled his eyes slightly. “I’ll allow it. Besides, I think we all need it after…” He didn’t have to finish his statement before Dean gave a small nod. “Alright. I’ll get it.”

“No, let me.” Dean was up and out of his chair before Sam even stood up. “Cas? You want one?”

The angel shook his head and soon it was just Sam and Castiel sitting alone together, a couple of chairs in between the two of them. A few seconds passed before Sam addressed Cas; cautiously, almost as if he were approaching a scared, wild animal.

“Cas… I’m sorry.” At the angel’s continued confused look he continued on. “What our... Dad did… it wasn’t your fault. And I’m sorry that that happened and we didn’t get there sooner, or stop him. We-”

“Trusted him. I don’t blame you two for what happened, Sam.” Cas gave a tight-lipped smile that disappeared in a second. “It was my fault… he caught me off-guard in the library. I don’t even know how. And he-” Cas caught himself and stilled his tongue. He wanted to say it, but he wasn’t sure how to, or if it was even right. But there was a question Cas had that he couldn’t understand an answer to. “Why did you tell him to leave? You were so… insistent on him staying when he first showed up.”

“Cas, he chained you up and buried you.” Sam blurted out, and Castiel’s flinch didn’t go unnoticed. How the angel couldn’t understand was beyond him. “He wasn’t about to stay.”

“But he’s your father.” The last thing Castiel wanted to do was excuse the man that had locked him up, but for all they talked about family, they had let a man like that go. There were a plethora of things Cas found wrong with letting him loose, both to the world and to the brothers themselves.

Sam tried not to sigh and he scrubbed his face as he tried to think of a good response, but he was saved by Dean entering the room “suddenly”. The other two knew that he had more than likely standing beside the doorway, listening in on them for the last minute, but neither said anything as Sam accepted his beer. Castiel went back to silent treatment, and they followed suit.

* * *

 “Dean.”

The quiet tone was enough to make him turn to Castiel, even if his name hadn’t been called. The angel stood in his bedroom doorway, eyes finding anything but Dean’s face an interesting topic of study. Dean tried not to yawn too badly; it was late, really late, even if he couldn’t sleep.

It had been a few days since coming back to the Bunker, and while they had all tried their best to act normal, it was difficult. Cas was coming around, at least marginally, but still seemed to feel the need to be close to one of the brothers in some way, hovering close to one of them when they sat, or finding some way to be “helpful” if one was making food in the kitchen.

There was no word on John Winchester, either. Nothing that could be used or that was enough to cause major ripples throughout the Hunting community. Sometimes Dean wondered when the Hell their lives got to the point where they were once again trying to search for and keep tabs on their Dad. It was a really bad case of deja vu.

“What’s the buzz, Cas?”

Cas seemed to argue with himself for a bit before he spoke up again. “I want to apologize.” He spoke quickly before Dean could cut in. “About… the past week.”

Suddenly, Dean didn’t feel so tired as he stepped towards Castiel. “I already said before you didn’t have to apologize. It wasn’t your fault that this happened.”

“I still should’ve been better. If I’d have known… maybe I could’ve done something earlier about him, or fought against him.”

“What could you have even done? There was nothing you could do about him.”

“Exactly. I was…” He broke off, almost frustrated as he looked down at the floor. When he spoke again, it was almost defeated; his shoulders slumped and he suddenly looked five feet smaller. “I was helpless. And I was-”

“Don’t finish that.” Dean knew that look in his eyes. That was the same look he remembered seeing on Castiel’s face when he was human, working at a Gas-n-Sip without a real roof over his head. It was the same look he saw after saving Castiel from Rowena’s attack-dog spell. And it was the same look Castiel had so long ago when he had escaped Purgatory and had a conversation that Dean found himself dwelling on for a long time afterward. _I’m afraid I might kill myself._

“But it’s true.”

“Like Hell it is.” Dean’s tone was gruff, but it was the closest thing he could get without getting mad at Cas. The last thing Cas needed was thinking Dean was really mad at him. They were close now, inches away, and Dean finally got Cas to look him in the eyes. “C’mon, man… this isn’t like you. Talk to me. What’s this all about?” It couldn’t all be the box. There was too much going on for it to be just that on its own.

Castiel was reluctant to say what it was for a while. “Your father… he said that you didn’t need me. That I didn’t deserve to be around you, because of what I was. Not who, because of what. And I failed to protect you from him. What good am I?” Cas searched Dean’s eyes as if they held all the answers he was seeking, as if there was any validation in them to what John had said when he had grabbed Cas, immobilized him, shoved him into a coffin and left him alone.

“You remember what you once told me about my dad?”

Cas looked a bit confused but nodded slowly. Of course, he remembered. It had been one night after a bad Hunt when Dean had gotten drunk, not more than he usually did but well above a “buzzed” sort of level. The Hunt wasn’t bad in that it was a failure, but it hit a little emotional, in some way for the boys, so this got passed around as a way to relieve some of the tension. Sam was off probably with another girl -- courtesy of Dean’s egging on--, and Dean was trying to get the bartender’s attention in more than a drinking way as Cas sat next to him, eyeing the alcohol he was consuming.

For an unknown reason, Dean had started tearing up at the bar and Cas took him outside for fresh air before Dean started leaning on him and spilling about his father, and how he had always ‘tried so hard, y’know Cas?’. All the angel could do was hold the human as best as he could offer whatever words of comfort he could and relieve his migraine the next morning. Dean hadn’t spoken of it since then and Castiel had assumed he had forgotten it. Castiel never did, though.

“Well, it was true. You told me not to believe him, that he was wrong. And… you gotta believe me when I say you were right. He didn’t know anything. You’re important to us, Cas. You’re our best friend, and you’re our brother.” His hand was on Castiel’s shoulder, now, and the angel was keenly watching him as if he could see into his soul; which he probably could. “And that’s worth more than some deadbeat.” Dean wasn’t sure at first if he believed his own words, but the more he spoke, he knew they were the truth. Family didn’t end in blood and all that.

The angel was quiet for a long time before he gave one small nod and a little more than a hint of a smile. “I understand, Dean… Thank you.” Anything else that needed to be said wasn’t exchanged through words. Cas swallowed as he realized he was probably doing the thing where he stared at Dean for too long and made the Hunter uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to stop just yet. “Do you want me to leave you alone now? I didn’t mean to interrupt you in whatever you were doing.”

“S’alright, Cas. I don’t mind.” His previously pushed aside tiredness seemed to want to make its presence known again, and he stifled the small yawn that formed even as he denied it. Cas looked understanding.

“Get some rest, Dean.” He told him, and Dean’s hand slowly slipped off of Castiel with one last comforting squeeze. There was another silent understanding, and Dean nodded slightly.

“Goodnight, Cas. See you in the morning.” He gave a soft smile and went down the hall to his own room, looking back at Cas quickly before he stepped into his room and closed the door.

Castiel watched Dean leave before he gave another sigh, but this time, not out of sadness. It was more contemplative, about everything that had happened and what would happen in the future. Castiel wasn’t sure what would happen, or if it all was truly over. There could be another moment like this, another time where it got too much and he was made aware of what he really meant, to this universe and to the people he loved. But for now, Castiel felt a bit more at peace.  For now, he would be able to get through the night, and maybe even the week. ‘Baby steps’ and all that.

As long as the Winchesters slept in the other room, safe and well, then Castiel could feel fulfilled as he retreated to his own room, not to sleep but to watch and guard as was his job. If there was one thing he could do, it was that.

For however long they needed him, and however long he could stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! This one is longer than the ones I usually do, so I hope it went well. If you really liked this, please leave a comment and a kudos down below! If you want to request more fic, or yell at/with me, my tumblr is castiel-ambrose. I'd love to see you stop on by!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Love you <3


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